


Christmas in Kansas City

by ras_elased



Category: SGA - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-24
Updated: 2006-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ras_elased/pseuds/ras_elased
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There are times when I really hate my state, but despite its population of mostly-stupid-and-backwards-idiots, it does have its moments of beauty, especially at Christmastime. I couldn't even squeeze in all the amazing things I love about Kansas City at Christmas, so I just stuck with the Plaza, which is really the highlight, as you can see in the pics under the cut. In my opinion, Kansas City at Christmas is the most romantic city this side of the Atlantic, and I think if John were planning to seduce Rodney it would be the perfect place.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Christmas in Kansas City

**Author's Note:**

> There are times when I really hate my state, but despite its population of mostly-stupid-and-backwards-idiots, it does have its moments of beauty, especially at Christmastime. I couldn't even squeeze in all the amazing things I love about Kansas City at Christmas, so I just stuck with the Plaza, which is really the highlight, as you can see in the pics under the cut. In my opinion, Kansas City at Christmas is the most romantic city this side of the Atlantic, and I think if John were planning to seduce Rodney it would be the perfect place.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Current location:**

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[Waiting for Santa](http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Waiting%20for%20Santa)  
  
---|---  
  
**Current mood:**

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excited - it's Christmas!!!  
  
**Entry tags:**

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[fic: christmas in kansas city](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fic%3A%20christmas%20in%20kansas%20city), [genre: romance](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20romance), [rating: nc-17](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3A%20nc-17)  
  
  
  
Okay, kiddies, who wants porn for Christmas?  
(Oh god, I am so going to hell...)

_   
**Christmas Porn! (Christmas in Kansas City)**   
_

Title: Christmas in Kansas City

Author: Ras Elased

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Slash, occasionally maudlin sentiments, self-indulgent schmoopiness galore

Author's notes: There are times when I really hate my state, but despite its population of mostly-stupid-and-backwards-idiots, it does have its moments of beauty, especially at Christmastime. I couldn't even squeeze in all the amazing things I love about Kansas City at Christmas, so I just stuck with the Plaza, which is really the highlight, as you can see in the pics under the cut. In my opinion, Kansas City at Christmas is the most romantic city this side of the Atlantic, and I think if John were planning to seduce Rodney it would be the perfect place.

 

Also, this is totally not beta'd, (despite the fact that [](http://hotspur18.livejournal.com/profile)[**hotspur18**](http://hotspur18.livejournal.com/) and [](http://dracostella.livejournal.com/profile)[**dracostella**](http://dracostella.livejournal.com/) both offered) because I have been sick for the last several days, with a fever of 104 and generally feeling like every single one of my internal organs is staging a violent coup against me. So, yeah, I pretty much laid around in bed instead of finishing this, hence the last-minute-ness of this posting, and it's still not really finished because I left some bits out since I didn't have time to write them. Please let me know any typos or mistakes in the comments, and I'll get them fixed pronto! *g*

 

Also, big thanks to [](http://hotspur18.livejournal.com/profile)[**hotspur18**](http://hotspur18.livejournal.com/), [](http://loldemort.livejournal.com/profile)[**loldemort**](http://loldemort.livejournal.com/), and  [](http://never-walk.livejournal.com/profile)[**never_walk**](http://never-walk.livejournal.com/)for the wine info! 

~~~

 

[  
____spacer____](http://pics.livejournal.com/ras_elased/pic/0000fybg/)

 

~~~

 

It was 6:30 at night, Earth time, when John dragged Rodney into the rental parked in the SGC lot, tossing their bags in the trunk. "You still haven't told me where we're going."

 

John didn't answer as he put the little red sedan in gear, just pulled down a few travel brochures from above the visor and tossed them into Rodney's lap. He picked up the first one, a giant yellow sunflower gracing the cover, and he groaned as he read the title. _Kansas: As Big As You Think_.

 

"So, your plan is to bore me to death in the middle of nowhere?"

 

John rolled his eyes, but offered Rodney a half smile. "It's a road trip, McKay, not a Wraith invasion. Where's your Christmas spirit?"

 

Rodney flipped to the second brochure and was greeted with the image of Dorothy clutching Toto in her arms, a bright rainbow in the background. "Apparently the same place as your sanity," he muttered.

 

~~~

 

John made Rodney play navigator with the beaten up and downright questionable road map he found in the glove box, because _of course_ Sheppard didn't have a plan. The good news was that Rodney discovered they could drive east on I-70 nearly the entire way, so he spent most of his time calculating exactly how long it would take for them to make it all the way across the godforsaken state and using his phone to look up possible hotels at each of the "cities" he found on the map. He was therefore understandably put out when after three hours, without warning, John turned off the highway and said, "This looks like a good place to stop for the night."

 

'This place' turned out to be the Best Western of Colby, Kansas, a buzzing metropolis of 5,450 people. Rodney suspected they'd passed the only stoplight in town on the way in. He didn't realize until after John had gotten their room that they had enough money in their respective bank accounts to rent out half the motel, so there was no reason to share, but by then he was busy wrapping himself up in his blankets and listening to the sound of John brushing his teeth, and he figured there was no such thing as being _too_ frugal. John came out of the bathroom and approached his own bed, casually stripping his shirt as he went. With an exhausted groan he collapsed face first on top of the sheets, clad in only tight black boxer-briefs that left little to the imagination, and heaved a muffled sigh into his pillow. A sliver of light from the cracked bathroom door cut across Sheppard's back, but Rodney couldn't find the energy to bitch about wasting power and needing total darkness for proper REM cycles, because after Atlantis even Rodney sometimes forgot that lights on Earth required switches. John gave a sleepy little grunt and rolled onto his back, one hand coming up behind his head and the other resting against the dark hair of his belly, a tiny, pleased smile on his face. It took Rodney a long time before he realized John wasn't wearing his dog tags.

 

"Aren't you cold?" Rodney asked at length, because really, it was the middle of December, he was convinced the thermostat was malfunctioning and he'd had to threaten management with a law suit just to get three extra blankets sent up.

 

John's smile went from pleased to downright smug as he stretched out impossibly further on the bed, arching his spine like a cat. He hiked up one knee and brought his free hand up behind his head to match the other already there, looking more like a man ready for California sunbathing than preparing to sleep through a Kansas blizzard. "I'll be fine, Rodney," he said, not bothering to open his eyes.

 

Rodney just watched him for another long minute before he wadded up one of his extra blankets and chucked it at John's head, then turned over to face the wall, muttering that he refused to be held responsible if Sheppard caught pneumonia and died in whatever pathetic excuse for a hospital this okie town had to offer. He wrapped himself as snugly as he could in his remaining blankets and soon drifted off to sleep, refusing to look over his shoulder and check if John had covered himself up.

 

~~~

 

The next morning they awoke to find that what Rodney had been convinced was a freak blizzard was in fact just a light snowstorm, a wispy, dry dusting that didn't stick to anything, just got kicked around by the battering winds that also threatened to push their car off the highway. The white dust danced across the pavement in a never ending stream of loops and curls, forming tiny snowdrifts against the old tumbleweeds trapped against the windward side of the barbed-wire fence lining the road. The rugged hills of Colorado were behind them, replaced with a terrain so flat Rodney could literally see for miles on end. The short, brown stalks of long-harvested fields stretched out all around them, the stems poking above the half-inch of snow and making the landscape look even more barren and depressing than the stark white of Siberia, but also somehow more beautiful. Aside from the occasional farmhouse, the vast, featureless expanse was broken only by the sparse peppering of grain silos, the rosy light of morning glinting off the metal towers in a way that made Rodney oddly homesick.

 

The scenery didn't change for several hours. Rodney was busy ignoring how his breath fogged up the window and blocked his view, because the one time Rodney had wiped away the beads of moisture obscuring his vision, John had given him a _look_, and Rodney loudly responded that it wasn't like he _enjoyed_ the view, but anything was better than staring at a fogged up window. After that, John became focused on not getting blown off the road by the harsh winds, and Rodney became focused on not gripping the door handle in a panic every time a particularly strong gust shook the car. There was a brief debacle over who controlled the radio station before they realized there was little to choose from besides hillbilly country, Christian talk shows, and static, so John took the opportunity to fish out one of his Johnny Cash CDs. Rodney just rolled his eyes and began digging through their bag of snacks, ignoring John's protests about 'spoiling your dinner' and somehow instigating an argument about whether or not Cheetos were considered an actual food.

 

Before Rodney knew it, the sweeping flat plains had morphed into gently rolling hills. The snow had begun to come down in giant wet flakes, each melting instantly as they landed on the rubber-warmed pavement but sticking to the cold brown grass, the limestone-riddled pastures broken by small patches of white. The wind no longer buffeted their car like a leaf trapped in a swift stream, but Rodney still made loud noises about suicidal Colonels driving in bad weather, and John insulted Rodney's Canadian pride by insinuating his citizenship should be revoked if he couldn't handle a little snow, and somewhere in the middle they stopped off for a quick lunch at a roadside diner. The snow was beginning to cover the road and dusk was on the horizon by the time Rodney realized the Podunk towns were getting closer together, and that they were beginning to look a little less Podunk with each town they passed. He could just make out a hazy city skyline in the distance through the snow and fading light when John announced triumphantly, "We're here!"

 

Rodney was about to ask where 'here' was, then he saw a green banner hanging from a lamp post that said 'Welcome to the Plaza' in giant, looping script. He glanced over to see John wearing his obnoxious, goofy, 'This is gonna be so cool!' grin, and Rodney couldn't help but grudgingly match it. John turned onto a slight hill and pulled up to a tall, ornate building with a classical statue out front, and a valet immediately popped out of nowhere as soon as John put the car in park.

 

Rodney followed John through the entrance, pausing to stare, wide-eyed, at the elaborate crystal chandelier spilling golden light on the expensive décor. He turned to find John watching him, giddy grin still in place. "This is _definitely_ not Best Western," Rodney murmured.

 

John just huffed a laugh and smacked Rodney in the arm, then headed over to the front desk. The girl behind the counter was young, pretty, and blonde, but one flirty little head tilt from Sheppard and she didn't give Rodney so much as a second glance. Once John got them checked in he handed a key card to Rodney and said, "Why don't you take our stuff on up to the room? I've got a few things I need to take care of here."

 

"Like what?" Rodney scoffed. "You've already checked in, what more could you possibly—"

 

"Rod-_ney_," John said, using his 'Shut up while I talk the crazy natives out of dissecting your brain' voice.

 

Rodney just snatched the card out of John's fingers with a glare and muttered, "Fine…Kirk." He warned off the bell boy with a look honed from years of wordlessly intimidating the incompetents below him, then hauled their two measly bags into the elevator, turning just in time to see John motion over his shoulder, the girl following the movement to give Rodney an incredulous once over. There was about a half a second in which Rodney wondered what the hell he'd done to deserve that look, then the elevator doors closed and he decided he didn't care.

 

When he made it to the room he dropped their bags and gawked in a manner not befitting a genius of his intellectual stature. The room was huge, with velvet draperies covering bay windows and expensive furniture that was too ornate for Rodney's taste, but still elegant. The warm yellow light from the small chandelier gave everything in the room a gilded edge, making Rodney feel like he'd just stepped into a setting straight out of a Victorian era mansion. "What do you think?" John's voice was low in Rodney's ear, making him give an embarrassing little start.

 

He spun to face the source of his ire. "Why are we here?" John just rested his hands on his hips and fixed Rodney with a raised eyebrow. "And I don't mean that in the cosmic sense," he clarified. "I mean, why are we here instead of the local Holiday Inn?"

 

John rolled his eyes and threw his arms open wide in frustration, motioning to the room in general. "We're on the _Plaza_, Rodney! It's Christmas, I have nearly three years' worth of combat pay burning a hole in my pocket, and I decided we should live a little, for _once_," he finished, a touch defensively, before collapsing onto the bed, making the edge of his t-shirt ride up to reveal a sliver of tan skin. He sighed, addressing the ceiling. "Just loosen up and try to have some fun, okay?"

 

Rodney would have had a cutting response to that, but he had pretty much stopped listening the moment he realized John was lying on the only bed in the room. "Sheppard, why is there just one bed?"

 

"Huh?" John turned his head to fix Rodney with a confused frown before it morphed into a shy smile. "Oh, that. I didn't have much time to make the reservation, and this was all they had." He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow, making his shirt ride up higher on one side. "You don't mind, do you, McKay?"

 

It came out sounding casual, but along with John's continued reminders to 'cut loose,' it felt more like a challenge to Rodney. "Please, Colonel, I've shared those tiny tents with you off world. This can't be any worse."

 

John's excited grin was back as he hopped off the bed. "Great! Now grab your coat, I want to show you something."

 

Rodney put on his coat, and his hat and gloves and scarf, then joined John on the balcony. The scene was beautiful, John's figure framed by a skyline ripped straight from some Spanish vista. The architecture of the buildings below made Rodney feel like he'd taken the red eye to some European resort, not driven in a crappy rental to the Middle of Nowhere, USA.

 

Rodney placed his hands on the balcony railing and looked at the man beside him, surprised to find John had his eyes closed and his head tilted back instead of taking in the view. He took a deep breath and smiled, as if something in the air itself was comforting. Rodney wondered for a moment at John's behavior, but when he opened his eyes he just said, "I hope you're hungry."

 

"Considering you confiscated the Cheetos over three hours ago—"

 

"Good," John cut off Rodney's griping. "Because the girl at the front desk recommended this great place for dinner."

 

"I'm sure she did," Rodney grumbled as he followed John out the door.

 

They made their way down to the lobby, past the blonde clerk who gave John a cheery wink and smiled at Rodney so sweetly it made him both want to puke and oddly suspicious. The bellboy jumped out of their way the moment he spotted Rodney, and Rodney was about to call for the valet when John unceremoniously stole his hat and began walking the other way. "Hey!" he yelped, putting a gloved hand to his thinning hair and jogging a little to catch up. "I realize you have a phenomenally bad sense of direction, but the valet station is back that way, Sheppard." Rodney jerked his thumb over one shoulder and snapped his other hand impatiently, holding it out palm up. John looked down at the red cap he was twirling around his fingers, then reluctantly handed it over to Rodney.

 

"We're walking, McKay," he said, staring bemusedly as Rodney adjusted his cap so the words 'I *maple leaf* Canada' were clearly visible.

 

"Walking? In this?" He motioned grandly to the falling snow.

 

John just gazed upwards and heaved a put-upon sigh, mumbled something about Christmas spirit, then headed off across the street. Rodney only hesitated for a moment before following him. The path leading down the hill to the Plaza cut through a small park, past a giant, empty fountain. They walked briskly against the cold, and Rodney nearly slipped on an icy patch, John catching his flailing elbow at the last minute, preventing the fall. This of course led to a lengthy retelling of the time he'd nearly broken his neck slipping on the ice outside his lab in Siberia and had to wear a neck brace for three months, despite the fact that the Russian doctors were idiots and told him there was nothing wrong with his neck. Before he knew it Rodney was following John through a large wooden door, barely glancing up in time to catch the name of the restaurant, The Melting Pot, before ducking inside.

 

Rodney's first impression wasn't much, aside from 'warm' and 'dark.' Then the maitre d' led them down a narrow flight of stairs which opened up into a spacious dining area. Rodney absently noted the deep reds and golds and rich mahogany and the tang of spices in the air, and he silently feared that John had brought him to some sort of ethnic restaurant. Didn't they get enough of that particular thrill back home?

 

They were seated in a small corner booth and Rodney immediately began peeling off layers of his warm outer wear until he was left with only his button-down striped shirt over a t-shirt that said 'You are stupid' in binary. John shrugged out of his coat to reveal a tan vintage t-shirt so threadbare that most of whatever colorful seventies design it previously sported was nearly worn off, and there was a tiny hole on the left side of the collar.

 

The maitre d' took their drink order, and after Rodney threatened him with manslaughter charges if he put lemon in his water, Rodney reached for the menu only to have it snapped out of his fingers before he could even get it opened. Without looking up, John settled the purloined menu behind his own, stifling Rodney's protests with a flippant, "Just trust me, McKay. I know what to order."

 

"Yes, some ethnic food nightmare that I'll be forced to eat with my _hands_."

 

"And dripping with citrus," John said dryly, then slouched further into his seat. "Would you just lighten up, Rodney? You'll like it, I promise." He smirked as he pulled the menu just out of reach from Rodney's grabby hands, earning him a petulant glare.

 

"I'm a grown man, Colonel, in case you hadn't noticed."

 

John's eyebrows shot upwards. "Trust me, I noticed," he said, giving Rodney a quick up and down glance.

 

Rodney just scowled. "What I mean is I'm fully capable of ordering for myself. And I think I know what I want better than you do."

 

John's eyes narrowed for a second, then he leaned forward from his slouch to rest his elbows on the table. "While that may usually be true, it's not in this case," he said in his command voice, the one he used when he was sick of Rodney's arguments. "Now, as hard as it may be, you're going to _stop_ trying to control everything tonight and _start_ trying to relax. We're on _vacation_, Rodney."

 

Their waiter chose that moment to make an appearance, cutting off Rodney's retort. With a slightly victorious smirk, John ordered an entrée for two and a bottle of wine. Rodney rolled his eyes, because he was convinced John only ordered Chateauneuf du Pape to sound like an over pretentious bastard and piss Rodney off. Rodney glared at him until the waiter returned with the wine, and then Rodney's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. John sampled the wine with practiced ease, nonchalantly smelling the cork and swirling the wine like it was something he did every day. His earlier irritation vanished, and he gawked in open curiosity. "Colonel? You drink wine?"

 

John shrugged, as if it was an everyday occurrence to find out the beer-guzzling military leader of Atlantis was a closet wine connoisseur. "Just because I make do with Zelenka's turpentine doesn't mean I don't occasionally enjoy the finer things in life. And it's not like I can requisition a crate of merlot off the Daedalus."

 

Rodney frowned. "True. I just never figured…" he motioned vaguely at the glass of wine in John's hand.

 

John smirked over the rim of his glass. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Rodney. Sooner or later we'll have to do something about that." John fixed him with a long look that make Rodney's face flush for no reason, and he busied himself with trying to sneak surreptitious glances at the other tables until their food arrived. Finally, Rodney's curiosity was satisfied when the waiter brought out their spread.

 

He didn't say anything as the team of waiters laid out a giant fondue pot filled with lightly seasoned oil and four fondue forks. Rodney fought the urge to curl his lip at the tray of raw meats, filet and sirloin and herbed chicken, and alongside it something that looked like sauces. Rodney just raised his eyebrows in shock. "You _cannot_ be serious." John ignored him in favor of plunging a fork into a chunk of sirloin and dropping it into the pot with a sizzle. "You actually expect me to eat this?"

 

"C'mon, McKay! It's good!" Rodney watched as John repeated the process, this time with a bit of raw chicken.

 

"It's unsanitary! I'm sure this is a health code violation."

 

"Rodney," John began in a warning tone.

 

"Yes, I know, 'lighten up' and all that, but I draw the line at willfully ingesting salmonella!"

 

John bit his bottom lip to stave off the grin threatening the corners of his mouth, then fished out the bit of steak he'd set to cook earlier. Rodney watched in fascination as John pursed his lips and blew on it until it stopped steaming. He was sure John would eat the first bite, like he usually did on missions to prove it was safe, but instead he held the fork out inches from Rodney's lips. "Try it, McKay. Walk on the wild side," he teased.

 

Rodney gave him a long, hard look then sullenly took the bite from John's fork, watching as John's tongue flicked out to unconsciously lick his lips along with Rodney. It was surprisingly good, lightly seasoned and tender, and after a moment Rodney said, "If I get food poisoning, it's your fault," before loading up his own fork.

 

John just grinned. "I'm sure we could work out a way for me to make it up to you."

 

The rest of dinner passed with their typical level of banter. John kept their wine glasses full and took great pleasure in rearranging their fondue forks until Rodney gave up trying to keep track of which ones were his, and they just ended up sharing. At one point the tips of their boots touched under the table, and Rodney didn't move his foot until his leg began to cramp.

 

Dessert was a chocolate fondue with a fruit plate and brownie chunks, and this presented a whole new set of problems. The slippery fruit kept sliding off their forks, which meant they had to fish them out, and this naturally led to a sticky mess and hot chocolate sauce licked off of scalded fingers.

 

Rodney had almost saved the last piece of strawberry from a chocolaty grave when he glanced up to see John lick a smudge of chocolate from his bottom lip and abruptly lost his grip on the strawberry. He cursed under his breath and John looked up, curious. "Problems?"

 

"Shut up, please," Rodney snapped back. "This is more difficult than it looks."

 

John just raised an eyebrow as he watched Rodney carefully maneuver the strawberry slice between two fondue forks. "Really? Because it looks like you're trying to redesign a naquada generator in there."

 

Rodney frowned but didn't take his eyes off the prize. "You have somewhere you need to be, Sheppard?"

 

"Actually, yes," John replied, then reached into the pot and snatched the strawberry out with his bare hand. He held the fruit out to Rodney with an impatient, "Here."

 

Rodney nearly went cross eyed staring at John's chocolate-drenched fingers so close to his mouth. He blinked and looked at John, who just raised his eyebrows in an anxious 'get on with it' gesture. Hesitantly, Rodney leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the strawberry. The corner of John's mouth twitched when Rodney's tongue accidentally brushed the tips of his fingers, and then John was drawing his fingers towards his own mouth. He kept his eyes locked on Rodney as he sucked the chocolate off first his index finger, then his thumb, slowly withdrawing each digit with a wet smack. He smirked and licked his lips one last time for good measure, then he stood, the moment gone so fast Rodney wondered if he'd imagined it. "C'mon, Rodney," he said shrugging into his coat. "Time to go shopping."

 

Rodney grumbled and complained as they bundled themselves back up and made their way out of the restaurant, because seriously, _shopping_? Then they stepped out into a blast of cold air and Rodney's breath caught in his throat. Night had fallen while they were inside, but the streets were illuminated as if it was still day. Everywhere Rodney looked, each building, every surface was trimmed with thousands of brightly colored Christmas lights. Then Rodney realized that 'shopping' was an excuse to take in the splendor of the lighted city, and he suddenly didn't mind so much.

 

Each line of the intricate Spanish architecture was traced with multicolored dots of light. The monochrome towers jutted up into his line of sight, visible over the tops of other buildings. In the distance, Rodney could make out their hotel, two bright pyramids atop the tall buildings. Somewhere on the edge of the city, a spotlight reached straight upwards towards the heavens, reflecting off the clouds overhead and illuminating the snowflakes that drifted into its path, making the sky dance with lights as well.

 

Rodney didn't know how long he'd been standing there before John hooked a leather gloved hand around his elbow. Rodney's focus snapped back to John, who was offering up one of his rare genuine smiles, obviously pleased at Rodney's awestruck reaction. They stared wordlessly at each other, each breath misting in the frigid air, and Rodney felt some indefinable tug, like there was something he was supposed to do or say, but he didn't know what. After a moment, John's smile faltered into one of his more familiar, cocky grins as he said, "And here I thought you reserved that look for ZPMs and alien whales."

 

Rodney snorted derisively. "Just shut up and take me shopping."

 

They ducked in and out of stores, Rodney nearly having to be bodily dragged from Sharper Image, supposedly losing his hat in the process, but given the bulge in the inside pocket of John's coat, Rodney suspected foul play. They listened to the click-clack of hooves on pavement from the horse drawn carriages as they toured the streets, wondering why John hadn't threatened to make him ride in one of them yet. There were no carolers, but they passed a blues bar that kept its doors open, the soft jazz music from inside spilling into the streets.

 

On nearly every street corner there were fountains, empty and still to keep the pipes from bursting in the cold. They were like individual monuments to potential energy, the frozen statues holding the promise of motion, their true nature hidden in the rushing flow of water. Rodney silently wished he could see what they looked like once the floodgate had been released, as they were meant to be seen.

 

Several hours later, when Rodney's face was numb and his fingers stiff from the cold, they decided to head back to the hotel. This proved to be easier said than done, however, as they hadn't planned on having to brave the icy path back up the small hill. John laughed as Rodney slipped for what felt like the twenty-seventh time, then gripped his elbow tighter to steady him. "McKay, you're just lucky I didn't make you go ice skating at Crown Center. You wouldn't have stayed on your feet for two—" John's snide comment was cut short as he lost his own footing, flailing briefly before Rodney gripped him unsteadily by his upper arms. There was a moment where Rodney was sure they'd both go down, but they managed to right themselves, and Rodney looked up to see John wearing the same expression he got every time he'd pulled their asses out of the fire on a mission without really knowing how.

 

Rodney allowed himself a grin of triumph. "Ha! Now look who's—" Naturally, Rodney chose that moment to overbalance, his death grip on John's arms resulting in him pulling John down on top of him, crashing down in a heap on the ice.

 

Rodney groaned, wondering if he'd hit his head hard enough to give him a concussion, and hoping he could blame that for the tingling sensation he felt everywhere their bodies touched. "That's it! I refuse to climb Pike's Peak without the proper equipment." He began halfheartedly shoving at the laughing bundle of warmth above him. "And you! You and your sadistic Christmas cheer can just get off of me, right now!"

 

John heaved a dramatically put-upon sigh and began to shift his weight, but then his leg pressed against Rodney's groin and they both froze. Rodney slammed his eyes shut to block out whatever he might see in John's expression, because while Rodney may have been wearing a coat thick enough to protect him from Canada's harshest winters, there were only a few thin layers of cotton separating John's thigh from Rodney's burgeoning erection. John pressed down a little harder, inquisitive, and Rodney sucked in a breath and closed his eyes tighter, stealing himself for John's reaction. Still, he wasn't quite prepared when John burst into one of his throaty, hyena guffaws of a laugh, the sound muffled into Rodney's thick scarf. It was almost worse than the anger he'd been expecting.

 

The movement of John's body as he laughed wasn't helping matters, and Rodney began shoving at him in earnest. "Thank you, Colonel. My night of mortification is now complete."

 

John's smiling face popped into Rodney's vision and strong hands held his shoulders, refusing to budge. "No, god, Rodney, I'm not laughing at you. I'm just…All this…" John rolled his eyes. "Bringing you all the way out here, showing you all this stuff…everything…" His smile turned wicked and his voice dropped an octave. "I guess I didn't need to try so hard. All I had to do was get you on your back as fast as possible."

 

When John's warm mouth pressed against Rodney's cold, numb lips, he was too shocked to move. He felt John's teeth graze his bottom lip, and then he found himself returning the kiss without conscious thought. John thrust his hot tongue in Rodney's mouth then ground his hips down, pressing his own erection into Rodney's hip. Rodney groaned and said, a little breathless, "Why are we making out on the ice in the middle of a park when there's a perfectly good, _warm_ hotel room waiting for us? Get off me so we can go scale Mount Everest and return to the land of central heating."

 

John laughed and stood, grinning devilishly as they made their way up the hill with renewed determination. When they finally reached the hotel they were panting and red-faced from the cold, and the girl at the front desk raised her eyebrows a little at their appearance. John just gave her a wink and a nod as he guided Rodney towards the elevators with a purposeful stride. John's gloved hand on his shoulder somehow sent enough heat through four layers of clothing to feel like a branding iron against his skin.

 

They stepped into the elevator and Rodney pressed the button to their floor. A split second after the doors closed Rodney found himself pinned against the wall, John's knee wedged between his thighs, his mouth latched on to Rodney's hungrily. He practically ripped open Rodney's coat, then bit the end of one gloved finger and pulled his hand free, shoving his cold fingers under the hem of Rodney's shirt and finding a warm nipple. Rodney gasped and arched into the touch, and John took the glove out of his mouth with his free hand before leaning in for another desperate kiss, as if trying to devour Rodney with his lips and tongue and hands.

 

By the time the elevator reached their floor they were both looking wild-eyed and disheveled. Rodney's scarf had been tugged loose from its coils around his neck, John's coat was dangling from only one elbow, and their flushed cheeks and pink lips had nothing to do with the cold. Rodney barely had time to register that the elevator doors were opening before John grabbed him by the hand and grinned, then pulled him along at a near run to get to their room, clothes still in disarray. They rushed past a middle-aged woman in the hall who took one look at them and blushed profusely, hiding a grin behind her hand, but John never slowed their pace until he'd turned the corner in front of their room. John's hands trembled as he frantically searched his pockets for his key card, so Rodney pressed him up against the door and kissed him as he fished his own card from the back pocket of his jeans.

 

Once inside they didn't bother with the lights, just stripped each other's coats and shirts and shoes and pants, all the while kissing like they couldn't breathe when they were apart. Rodney felt like everything he'd been holding back for years was suddenly released, and once that dam had been broken they were both powerless to stop it, pouring everything they had into each reckless touch of lips and hands. John steered Rodney towards the foot of the giant bed, and when he reached it he fell backwards, John straddling him on all fours, his naked body tantalizingly close, but not close enough. Rodney levered himself up onto his elbows, unwilling to spend even a second without John's lips on his own, and began edging up the length of the bed. John crawled along with him, above him, making needy, breathy little noises into Rodney's mouth as they inched along. When Rodney reached the headboard he couldn't stand the space between them any more, and he grabbed John's hips, pulling him down until their bodies were flush, naked skin and cocks finally brushing against each other, making them both moan. John's hips began a hesitant, slow stutter that gradually developed into a steady rhythm, harsh pants and kisses a counterpoint to John's thrusts. Rodney realized it would be over too soon, far too soon, with John rutting against him like he couldn't find enough skin to touch, so Rodney hefted his weight and flipped John over, holding him still and stifling his wordless protests with slow, lingering kisses.

 

Rodney held him until his hands stilled their fevered movements along his back and shoulders, John's body practically vibrating beneath him. John's breathing was shaky as he said, "Okay, so…lube?"

 

Rodney blinked. "I don't…I didn't bring—"

 

"Wait, I might—" John said, springing out of bed and dashing into the bathroom. Rodney rolled onto his back and took the split second reprieve to wonder how the hell he'd finally ended up here. He heard John knock something off the bathroom shelf and curse under his breath, but at that moment Rodney noticed the bottle of Nuits Saint-George and two wine glasses setting on a bedside table. He peered at it curiously, trying to remember if it had been there when they checked in.

 

John let out a crow of victory and came back into the bedroom clutching a tiny bottle of complimentary lotion in his fist, then practically kneed Rodney in the groin in his rush to get back in bed. He dropped the bottle and took Rodney's face in his hands, and Rodney could feel John's crazy grin against his lips. It was almost enough to distract his curiosity. "What, Sheppard," he said, pulling his mouth away. "Where did that come from?" he asked, indicating the table with the wine.

 

John spared it a brief glance before quickly explaining, "Backup plan," and capturing Rodney's lips again.

 

Rodney shoved bonelessly at John's shoulders and muttered between kisses, "Backup plan?"

 

"Mm hmm," John agreed into Rodney's mouth. "Last ditch effort to set the mood, in case nothing else worked." He pulled back to leer at Rodney. "Obviously, I don't need it."

 

Rodney blinked, and suddenly everything came into focus. "Sheppard, I…you _planned_ this?"

 

"You're just now figuring this out?" He narrowed his eyes and frowned from his position above Rodney. "And by the time I have your dick in my mouth, you'd better be calling me John."

 

Still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he'd actually been _seduced_, Rodney's brain shorted out at the image of John's full, pink lips wrapped around his cock, and John took advantage of his distraction to capture his gaping mouth in a bruising kiss.

 

But now Rodney was wondering why the hell John had done this, why go to all this trouble for him? Rodney tried to extricate himself from John's grasp, because there must be some mistake, alien sex pollen from their last mission, _something_. Things like this just did _not_ happen to him. He pushed John away, looking down at Rodney, puzzled and a little hurt. Hesitantly, he ran his thumbs across Rodney's cheekbones in a soft caress, eyes radiating hope and confusion, but also something that had always been there, the naked want that Rodney had never recognized but now saw clear as day, because he knew he shared that look. Finally letting himself believe this was real, he wrapped his arms around John's shoulders and kissed him deep, each of them swallowing the other's doubts. He sighed as John's fingers traced the curve of his neck, down his sides, his lips soon following the same path, taking a slight detour to suck on his nipples. Their frantic pace from earlier had calmed, as if they'd both come to realize that this was actually happening, that they didn't need to clutch desperately at each other in an effort to hold them in place, to keep this moment from escaping.

 

John's light kisses trailed down his ribs, across his hip, and when John reached Rodney's cock he gripped the base, then slowly licked the bead of precome from the tip. "Say it," he commanded, voice low. Rodney didn't know what he meant at first, too lost in the sensation of John's hand and mouth on his dick, and then he realized John wanted him to say his name. It would have been easy, having made the mental shift from 'Sheppard' to 'John' so long ago. He didn't even know why he refused, but he'd never been one to take the easy path, so he kept his mouth shut. John touched his lips to the bundle of nerves on the underside of the head, and breathed, "Say it," as much an order as a request.

 

"John." He moaned the name like a dirty plea, and the next thing he knew John's mouth engulfed him, deep and fast, and it was only John's hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock that kept him from coming right then. John sucked and licked his way up and down Rodney's shaft, mouth hot and slick, moaning a little around the fullness of Rodney's cock. He moved his hand gently over Rodney's balls, tracing further back, just grazing his entrance, and Rodney had to fist the sheets to keep from bucking up into John's mouth.

 

With one last, almost sweet kiss to the head, John pulled off and reached for the bottle of lotion, lust-darkened eyes never leaving Rodney's face. The slight hitch in Rodney's breathing must have been enough answer for John's questioning gaze, because he dipped first one, then two fingers into the bottle, coating them liberally before pushing both fingers in past the first knuckle, gentle but insistent. Rodney hissed slightly and John moved to press his mouth to Rodney's, mumbling in apology, "I know, 'msorry, I can't wait," before twisting his fingers and pushing in a little further. Rodney arched and moaned, then felt John's fingers withdraw only to return with about half the contents of the tiny lotion bottle, easily sliding in and out as he slicked up Rodney's entrance, the slow, gentle burn making Rodney pant and writhe for more. He was thrusting his hips in counterpoint to John's fingers, fucking himself like he couldn't get enough, then John turned his wrist and crooked his fingers, making Rodney arch his hips off the bed.

 

"God, Rodney, I—" John's voice was on the knife edge of control, his free hand hard on Rodney's hip where he'd pushed him back down onto the bed. Rodney knew they were both hanging on by a thread, so he wordlessly lifted his legs to rest on John's shoulders. John got a little wide-eyed and withdrew his fingers, using the last of the lotion to slick up his cock while Rodney shoved a pillow under his hips. John positioned himself at Rodney's entrance, gently pushing just the head inside, letting out a shuddering whimper that did wonders for Rodney's sexual ego. John wrapped strong hands around Rodney's thighs and continued the slow slide forward until he was fully sheathed, hips to ass, his entire body trembling and Rodney feeling so full it was threatening to spill over into a needy moan.

 

He looked up at John, lips pink and parted, messy hair flopping over his forehead, eyes closed, the lashes dark against his cheeks. He wanted so badly to pull John down on top of him, to kiss him senseless with everything he had, but then John began moving, low moans in time with his smooth thrusts in and out, and Rodney was too overcome with sensation to do anything but take it. John kept his pace slow at first, obviously fighting for control over his own body, but then Rodney fisted his hands in the sheets and moaned, "John, just…please," and his thrusts sped up, one hand sliding down Rodney's thigh to take his rock hard cock in hand.

 

Rodney felt like every single nerve ending in his body was exposed. He became hyper aware of the soft sheets at his back, of John's sweat-slicked palm hot and heavy as he stroked in time with each demanding thrust. He felt full and complete and whole, and he wondered how the hell he'd made it through life without this feeling. After tonight, he knew that everything would seem a little smaller, a little paler, because John had become the one bright, sharp focus in his universe. Then John adjusted his angle, leaning over to kiss Rodney, sloppy and needy and just a little out of control, and Rodney cupped his face in his hands to steady him, running the pads of his thumbs over John's stubble-rough jaw. Overcome with the too-perfect assault on his senses, Rodney gasped wordlessly into John's mouth and came in hot spurts that coated his stomach and John's hand, which continually stroked as he wrung every last ounce of pleasure from Rodney's body. Every molecule in him still resonating with the best orgasm of his life, John gave a few more uncontrolled thrusts into Rodney, grunting a little more wildly each time until he finally tensed and stilled as he came, cock pulsing inside Rodney as he sighed into his neck.

 

John collapsed on top of him, panting hotly into his collarbone while Rodney fought to control his own ragged breathing. Stillness descended, and John reluctantly rolled to the side, making Rodney wince slightly as he pulled out. He didn't move far, just settled easily against Rodney's side, completely ignoring the mess of fluid between them that was slowly turning sticky. Rodney used the edge of the sheet to clean them up as best he could, John already drifting into sleep beside him. Rodney watched him for a moment, then ran his fingers over John's chest, feeling soft hair where the cold metal of his dog tags usually rested. "What happens when we get back?" he asked suddenly.

 

There was a solemn pause. John still looked seconds from sleep, but Rodney knew he was awake and alert. "Whatever you want to happen, Rodney," John said, barely tightening his hold on Rodney's middle.

 

He didn't hesitate, just twined his fingers through John's. "What if I want this?"

 

He felt John smile into the skin of his shoulder, then roll half on top of him for a tender kiss. "Okay," he nodded. "Now relax and get some sleep. We're booked up through New Year's."

 

"Huh," he replied, picking up the tiny, empty bottle of lotion. "We're gonna need more lube."

 

John just snorted into his neck.

 

~~~

 

Rodney opened his eyes early the next morning to find it was still dark outside. He reached for John only to find the bed empty, and that at least answered the question of why he'd woken up. He turned slightly to see John framed in the blue-silver light of the window, a glass of wine held loosely in his fingers. Rodney took a moment to ogle the curve of his ass in the moonlight, then called out softly, "John?"

 

He turned to flash a brilliant smile at Rodney. "Hey, I was just debating whether or not to wake you up. C'mere, I want you to see this."

 

Rodney rolled out of bed, clutched the covers up around his torso in a show of modesty that didn't really fit with their previous activities or John's current state of nudity in front of the bay window. John smirked as Rodney shuffled over. "You know, you don't have to bring the bed with you," he mocked.

 

"Oh, shut up," Rodney replied, pulling the bedclothes tighter around his shoulders. "I can't believe you're not freezing your ass off."

 

John raised one eyebrow lazily. "And I still can't believe you're actually Canadian." John silenced his indignant squawk of protest with a gentle kiss flavored slightly with the wine he was drinking, tasting thick and rich and ripe. Rodney was lost in the kiss when he felt John press a hand to his cheek, turning his head away from John's blackberry-flavored lips and out towards the window. The sight was amazing, a panoramic scope of the entire city of lights laid out before him in all its glory. It was spectacular, but Rodney felt himself turn back to John, a lingering glance before reluctantly facing the window, his eyes following John's gaze. He had a feeling even Atlantis would lose some of its sparkle compared to John.

 

"I had an aunt who lived out here when I was younger," John began nonchalantly, still staring at the lights. "Every other year we'd spend Christmas with her, me and all my cousins. She never had any kids of her own, so she loved having us." He smiled fondly. "Spoiled us rotten, actually. She'd pile all seven of us into her station wagon and drive us all over, take us ice skating, give us carriage rides around the Plaza, bake us cookies…" he said, voice trailing off.

 

"It sounds nice," Rodney said, watching John's face.

 

He nodded, then took a drink from his glass. Rodney noticed his fingers were holding it tightly. "She died when I was twelve. Lung cancer. I haven't been back here since that last Christmas."

 

Rodney didn't say anything for a long time. He understood the immensity of John's confession, and he wrapped it around himself like one more warm, comforting blanket. After several minutes of silence, Rodney reached for John's glass and plucked it out of his fingers, eliciting a surprised, "Hey!"

 

Rodney swirled the wine and took a drink, making a contemplative face as he swallowed. "Not bad, Sheppard. You've got good taste." While John rolled his eyes, Rodney continued, "Now why don't we finish the bottle of wine you so obviously got to impress me, then we can have sex in the shower and you can take me ice skating so I can prove to you just how Canadian I am."

 

John smirked, his brain latching on to the one thing that Rodney knew it would. "I think sex in the shower actually defeats the purpose of taking a shower in the first place, Rodney."

 

Rodney held up a finger from under his sheets. "Ah, you would think that, but in this case the purpose is actually to find whatever passes for lube in that shower, since you so conveniently forgot to pack any. And seriously, I'm concerned that something on Atlantis may have damaged your intelligence level. Who in their right mind plans a grand weekend of seduction and _forgets_ to bring the single most important thing for the culmination of said weekend? Hmm?"

 

John just rolled his eyes and fisted his hand in Rodney's blankets, pulling him in for a messy kiss. "Don't worry, I plan on buying you jumbo-sized bottle today, all wrapped up with a pretty bow." He laughed at Rodney's expression, then dragged him back to the bed. As he pulled Rodney down on top of him, beginning a slow dance of tongues sliding against each other, hands brushing along soft skin, John whispered gently into his ear, "Merry Christmas, Rodney."

 

Rodney just smiled and whispered back, "Merry Christmas, John."

~~~

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/ras_elased/pic/0000gfhz/)   [](http://pics.livejournal.com/ras_elased/pic/0000hcq6/)  



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